1 Help, Lord, because the godly mandoth daily fade away;And from among the sons of menthe faithful do decay.
2 Unto his neighbour ev'ry onedoth utter vanity:They with a double heart do speak,and lips of flattery.
3 God shall cut off all flatt'ring lips,tongues that speak proudly thus,
4 We'll with our tongue prevail, our lipsare ours: who's lord o'er us?
5 For poor oppress'd,and for the sighs of needy, rise willI, Saith God, and him in safety setfrom such as him defy.
6 The words of God are words most pure;they be like silver try'dIn earthen furnace, seven timesthat hath been purify'd.